Ronald the Boy
by Pinky Jo Curlytail
Summary: James Possible's observations, ruminations and yes, palpitations, as he deals with the changes in Kim and Ron's relationship. Post-StD, Post-Clean Slate & Post-Graduation.
1. Paradigm Shift

All characters and episodes referenced in this story are the property of Disney. I'm just borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

* * *

_Kim: Dad, I have a problem._

_James: Frankly, uh, your mother has the good advice vis-à-vis boy trouble._

_Kim: Oh, this isn't about a boy; it's about Ron._

_James: Oh, gotcha._

_**Kim Possible, **"Attack of the Killer Bebes"_

* * *

I check my watch for the fifteenth time in the last half-hour. Two minutes to go... technically.

"Not midnight yet, dear," Ann says serenely, without even looking up from the pile of rubble she's been sweeping into one corner of the room. Our living room's still a mess, but it's much better than it was just a few hours ago. It's amazing how quickly contractors can work when they know how much repeat business it'll earn them; for once I'm thankful for the twins' reputation for destruction.

"Close enough," I grumble.

I wasn't happy about extending Kimmie's curfew in the first place, but when she came running back in here after defeating Drakken, I was quickly overruled. "It's her prom, James," my wife had said. "Not to mention poor Eric's."

_Poor Eric_, I think, glancing at my watch again. _One more minute, poor Eric._

Okay, he _did_ seem like a nice young man, and I _can_ sympathize with being kidnapped by Drakken—all too easily based on recent experience. But at the end of the day, he's still a boy. And having been one of those myself, albeit not _quite_ so recently, my trust only extends so far.

Just as I'm about to check my watch again, I hear the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the driveway. With a sigh of relief, I make my way quickly to the living room window and pull the curtain back just enough to peek outside.

"James," Ann chides, "give Kimmie and Eric some privacy."

"I would, dear," I say with a grin. "But Eric's not there." In a second, she's squeezed in beside me at the window.

It's not Eric's motorcycle we heard pulling into the driveway, after all, but Ronald's souped-up scooter. And it's not Eric walking my daughter up to the door, either. It's Ronald. Nice, safe, best friend, not-a-boy Ronald.

"What could have happened to Eric?" Ann asks.

I just shrug happily, not really caring. Maybe the whole Drakken kidnapping "sitch" was too much for him and he got scared off. Or maybe he got fresh and Ronald told him to take a hike.

Okay, admittedly that doesn't sound much like Ronald, but hey, I'm feeling charitable towards him for bringing my Kimmiecub home safe and sound and, especially, boyfriend-less.

All charitable feelings flee as I watch him lean forward and _kiss_ my daughter!

Ann yanks me away from the window then, and I'm too stunned to put up any resistance as she drags me over to stand in the entryway. We hear a parting "Booyah!" and a moment later, the door opens and Kim walks in, smiling from ear to ear.

"Hi Mom, Daddy," she says. She looks back and forth between the two of us, as if she has no idea why we're staring at her like this. "I'm not late, am I?"

Thankfully Ann speaks up, because I don't think I have the faculty of speech at the moment. "Kimmie, what happened to Eric?" I can tell she's trying to sound stern, but she's doing about as poor of a job hiding her glee as I'm sure I am of hiding my shock.

"Um, it's kind of a long story...."

Ann crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. "We've got time."

"Okay, well…." As promised, the explanation that Kim launches into is a lengthy one, and I'm too distracted to catch even half of what she's saying. Something about "synthodrones," "a giant cactus" and "out there, in here"…? I shake my head. I'll have to get Ann to fill me in later.

I'm so preoccupied, I don't even realize that she's finished talking until she throws her arms around me in a hug. "Night, Daddy."

"Oh, uh…" I wrap my arms around her. "Good night, Kimmiecub." But instead of letting her go, I find myself squeezing her more tightly.

And then, an idea hits me. Still hugging her, I reach up with one hand and pull aside her hair, leaning over her shoulder to look at her neck.

Nothing.

I finally let her go then, thankful that she doesn't seem to have noticed what I was doing. _Of course she didn't_, I think, as I watch her kiss her mother and float up the stairs toward her bedroom. She's as distracted as I am, though for a completely different reason.

Her mother, it seems, is not quite so oblivious. Now I'm the one getting the raised eyebrow. "James Timothy Possible, did you just check your daughter for hickeys?"

"No!" I say defensively. Then my eyes widen. "Should I have?"

Ann laughs—she actually laughs! "Of course not! They only just had their first kiss tonight."

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

She looks at me appraisingly, and I can see the moment that she realizes what I _was _checking for. "Ah," she says, her mirth replaced by a gentler smile. "No, dear, no Moodulator this time."

She lets that sink in for a moment before reaching up and kissing me on the cheek. "Come on, it's late. Let's go to bed."

She starts to head up the stairs, but I don't follow. "Uh, I'll be up in a few."

She gives me another long look, but she doesn't say anything more, and after a moment she continues up the stairway alone.

I watch her disappear from sight and then find myself gravitating back toward the window that she pulled me away from only a few minutes ago. It feels like hours.

I gaze outside again. The porch is empty now, but I keep replaying in my mind the scene I saw there earlier.

Just like that, Ronald went and turned into a boy.

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who's been kind enough to review my first two stories. This one's a little different, but I hope you'll like it. And special thanks to Slipgate for offering advice on this chapter and encouraging me to get my rear in gear and get this story up.  
_

_Three more chapters to go-- sorry they're short, but I will try to post them quickly to make up for it._


	2. Hotties at the Breakfast Table

_Knock, knock, knock_

I look up from my morning paper in confusion. It's only 8:30, and the contractors said they wouldn't be back to finish up until 10. So who—?

"That must be Ron," Ann says. "I'll get it."

I scowl, suspicious. "Since when does Ronald knock?"

She doesn't answer, just gives me a knowing smile and a little pat on the shoulder as she walks out to the living room.

"Good morning, Ron," I hear her say as she opens the door.

"Mornin' Mrs. Dr. P," comes the familiar response, sounding far too chipper for my liking.

"Kimmie's still upstairs getting ready. Why don't you go into the kitchen and have some pancakes and I'll let her know you're here?"

"Thanks!"

Right on cue, Ronald comes sauntering into the kitchen a few seconds later. He heads straight to the counter, pulls a plate out of the cupboard and starts helping himself to _my_ pancakes. "Good morning, Mr. Dr. P," he says as he takes a seat across from me.

_Don't 'Good morning, Mr. Dr. P' _me, _you little traitor._

"Morning, Ronald."

"Beautiful weather we're having, huh?" he says, stuffing a pancake into his mouth whole.

I peer curiously at him over the top of my paper, then glance out the window. "Um, yes."

Whether he actually notices my reticence or just doesn't have the motivation to attempt any more small talk—knowing Ronald, my bet is on the latter—he turns blessedly quiet after that, focusing his attention on his breakfast and allowing me to concentrate on my paper. Or at least try to.

When I hear two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs, I decide it's now or never.

"Ronald," I say, setting my paper down on the table.

He looks up at me, curious, and quickly swallows the bite he just took. "Yeah?"

I clear my throat. "I was just wondering if you remember that little talk we had before the Middleton Days Festival."

His eyes widen a bit in recognition, and I can't keep from smiling smugly.

But then he actually smiles back.

"Yes, sir," he says, and he doesn't sound terrified or intimidated or even slightly nervous, like I was expecting. In fact, he sounds almost... enthusiastic?

"Uh, well, good," I mutter, picking the paper back up and hiding my confusion behind it. "Just checking."

If he notices my surprise, he doesn't have time to say anything about it at least, because just then Ann and Kim arrive in the kitchen.

Ronald's instantly on his feet. Okay, _now_ he looks nervous.

"Hey, Kim," he says, looking and sounding as if he hasn't greeted her the same way almost every day for the last 13 years.

And then Kim walks up and kisses him on the cheek as if she _has_ greeted him _that_ way almost every day for the last 13 years. "Hey, Ron."

Ronald's nervousness is replaced with a goofy grin, and I'm left wondering when the world turned upside down.

"Ready to go?" Kim asks, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him toward the door.

"Where are you two off to?" Ann asks. Something about the way she says "you two" makes my stomach twist.

They look at each other as if they hadn't even considered that rather important detail. Finally Kim shrugs. "Bueno Nacho and a movie?"

"Badical!" Ron responds as they head outside.

Once the front door closes, I try to turn my attention back to the paper, but it's no use. Instead I turn and watch out the kitchen window as they walk down the driveway, their hands still linked.

It's not the first time Kim's held Ronald's hand, but usually it's because she's dragging him along behind her—on the way to school or a mission or her latest volunteer project. The sight of them walking side by side like that is something entirely different.

After they've driven off on the scooter, I turn my gaze back to the table in front of me, and for the first time I notice—there are still one and half pancakes left sitting on Ronald's plate.

I look up at Ann, feeling inexplicable dismay. "Since when does Ronald _not_ finish a free meal?"

The only answer I get is another knowing smile and another pat on the shoulder.

It's then that the reality of the situation finally manages to crash through all my hard-won denial. Ronald's gone and leapfrogged right over boy to... _boyfriend_.


	3. Captain Consternation

Ronald has good taste in television, I'll give him that.

And he makes for a good distraction, too.

While he's still trying to convince Kim to turn _Captain Constellation_ back on, I take the chance to edge my way slowly out of the room—and out of range of my daughter's wrath.

I know that if I just give her some space, Kimmie will forgive me soon enough for what I added to the memory video. I just hope she never realizes what I left _off_ of it....

I sigh. I'm not even sure why I did it really. It's not that I have anything against Ronald.

A second after that thought passes through my mind, I'm surprised by the realization that it's actually true.

Oh, I could sit and make a laundry list of the boy's faults... but the fact is that none of them holds a candle to the fact that I know he genuinely cares for her. Years of following her around the world long before he even had a hope of being her boyfriend more than proved that. Not to mention these past few days when she couldn't _remember_ that he was her boyfriend.

And he makes her happy.

And that, I realize, is exactly what worries me.

Not that I don't want my little girl to be happy....

Key words: _my little girl_.

It's bad enough that she's getting ready to graduate from high school and leave for college—and in all likelihood, a college on another continent, no less!

I'm just not ready to think about losing my Kimmiecub to another man.

_So why am I panicking now?_ I wonder as I lean back around the living room doorway to watch them. She _has _dated before, after all, and I may not have liked it, but I never felt like _this_.

I already know the answer, of course, even if this is the first time I've admitted it to myself. This time is different. Ronald isn't just a boyfriend. He might be _the_ boyfriend....

I nearly choke on that thought when I see Ronald pull a little black velvet box from his pocket.

Kim opens the box and her face lights up. "Ron, they're beautiful!"

_Okay James, breathe. "They're"—that's plural. A ring would be singular._

The rules of grammar on their own aren't quite enough to make my heart rate return to normal, but Kim plucking a small gold hoop from the box and putting it in her ear finally does the trick.

Ronald grins. "Y'know, I still don't quite get this 'halfiversary' thing, but hey, any excuse to get a gift for my badical GF."

Kim finishes putting the other earring in and takes his hand. "Thank you."

Ronald rubs the back of his neck, looking suddenly nervous. "Uh, KP, you know what you said earlier—back on the train, I mean…?" She looks at him expectantly. "Well, I just wanted to say, um, you know... I do, too. I mean—that is—what I'm trying to say—"

Kimmie cuts off his rambling with a quick kiss, then says simply, "I know." The smile she gives him is altogether different from anything I've seen from her before, and yet it seems strangely familiar.

I turn away then and head to my study, telling myself that I have no idea what that conversation was all about.

_Who am I trying to kid?_

_

* * *

_

_The idea that Mr. Dr. P left Ron's boyfriend status off of the memory DVD in "Clean Slate" I owe entirely to the _other_ MrDrP. If you haven't already read his "Father Doesn't Know Best," be sure to check it out.  
_


	4. Aftermath

When I open my eyes, my first thought is, _Where am I?_

I'm lying in a bed, but it's not my bed. In a bedroom that's not mine, in a house that surely can't be mine either....

In a split second, my memory comes flooding back. That's right. My house, my bedroom, my bed—they don't exist any more. They're all gone. Destroyed.

Then I turn my head to the right and see Ann asleep beside me, and somehow I actually smile. Everything that matters is still here.

A glance at the alarm clock confirms that it's well past midnight. It's then that I remember what woke me up in the first place—a sound I had been listening for even in my sleep. The sound of the Sloth pulling up outside.

Moving as carefully and quietly as I can, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad over to the window. If one thing can be said for the Stoppables' guest room, it's that it has an excellent view of their driveway.

Sure enough, as I pull back the curtain, I see the Sloth sitting there with the top down, and Kim and Ronald sitting in it, finally back from their beach party. But they make no move to get out of the car and come inside. They seem content to just sit there quietly, wrapped in each other's arms.

They've been doing a lot of that lately.

They haven't told any of us much yet about exactly what happened out there—how those aliens were finally stopped. The media and the government have given most of the credit to Drew and his plant potion, and though we all suspect there's far more to it than that, Kim and Ronald seem content to let them. So we've been just as content to wait until they're ready to tell us more, just happy to have the both of them—not to mention our world—back safe.

But whatever did happen, I've seen the way that Kimmie looks at Ronald now, and I know she's seen a change in him. The same change I saw when he told me he was determined to follow after her yet again—this time to the stars.

_Oh, he's still Ronald_, I think, as I watch her giggle at something he's said. _She wouldn't love him if he wasn't_—funny how easy _that_ thought comes, all of a sudden.

But he's not a boy any more.

"James," Ann mumbles sleepily, "give Kimmie and Ron some privacy."

"Yes dear." I take one last glance out the window before I let the curtain fall closed. I climb back into bed beside her, draping one arm across her middle and gently kissing her cheek before I rest my head back on my borrowed pillow.

_If I have to lose my Kimmiecub to another man_, I think, as my eyes begin to drift shut, _it had better be that one._

**The End**


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